


All I Want for Christmas

by virgo_writer



Series: Sixteen-by-Eight Feet [12]
Category: Make It or Break It
Genre: F/M, Gen, Humor, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-03
Updated: 2011-01-03
Packaged: 2020-09-01 23:08:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20266021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/virgo_writer/pseuds/virgo_writer
Summary: Alexandru glanced at his father and shook his head, his expression all the more distraught for seeing him. “I think Mamă loves Domnul Santa!” 16x8 Universe. Payson/Sasha





	All I Want for Christmas

_December 2024_

Payson shook her head as Sasha came down the stairs, lifting her reading book higher in order to hide her expression. The book, however, did nothing to hid her shaking shoulders or unbidden giggles.

“What?” Sasha asked, crossing his arms awkwardly over his chest and sending her a defiant look that only made her laugh harder.

“You look ridiculous, Sasha,” she laughed, putting down her book. “And you’re not even well disguised. Sandu’s a smart kid. He’ll know it’s you under all that.”

“He won’t once I find the beard,” he argued, going through the box of old things he’d brought back from Romania. “He fell for it last year.”

“Last year he was turning five and Dmitri actually looked the part in the Santa suit,” she was quick to rebut. “You’re not fair enough to play Santa Claus and you look ridiculous with that pillow stuffed down your chest.”

“Fine,” Sasha said, pulling the pillow out from where it was encased in the bright red suit. “Better?” he asked her pointedly, holding out his gloved hands for inspection.

Payson rolled her eyes. “You look a very sexy Santa, Sasha,” she assured him, “but not a convincing one.”

“I’ll tell him I went to a weight loss resort in Ibiza,” he said.

“And came out looking almost exactly like his father in a red suit?”

Sasha sighed and sat himself down on the end of the stairs. “This isn’t going to work, is it?” he admitted finally. “I just wanted to keep up the tradition, but it’s futile,” he said despondently, running his fingers through his hair in defeat.

Payson smiled sadly at his expression, moving quickly across the room to console her husband. “We’ll just have to let this one go,” she told him gently as she stood between his knees, “but there are other traditions we get to keep and I’m sure Sandu will remember him even without this one.”

He looked up, his sad blue-grey eyes meeting hers. He nodded sadly, accepting that this was something he would have to let go – another part of his father he wouldn’t be able to keep alive.

“_Te iubesc_,” he said quietly, pulling her close and resting his head against her stomach.

“Ditto,” she smiled, gently stroking his broad shoulders in comforting circles. When he relaxed his hold, she sat herself down on his knees and wrapped her arms loosely around his neck. He really did make a very attractive Santa Claus (not a good Santa, but an attractive one), all dressed up in a red velour suit with white trimmings, and black leather boots. She readjusted the red cap atop his hair and smilingly kissed his cheek.

“Shall I tell you what I want for Christmas, Santa?” she asked him sweetly as her fingers curled into the hair at the nape of his neck.

Sasha responded with a weak smile, but played his part in the game and let her take his mind off of more depressing matters. “That depends on whether you’ve been naughty or nice,” he answered her, watching as her eyes flashed with amusement.

“I’ve been plenty nice to you,” she protested. “Some might say too nice.”

“You weren’t very nice last night,” he argued. She glared dangerously and Sasha raised his hands in surrender. She shook her head, muttering some comment about how she had been genuinely ill and he had been completely unsupportive of her plight.

“You are exceptionally nice, Payson Belov,” he told her, with a quick peck to the lips to appease her, “and I suppose I’d be obliged to grant you your heart’s desire, _scumpa mea soție_.”

Payson grinned and thoughtfully considered her heart’s desire. “Can I have a puppy?” she asked him brightly, putting on childish airs.

“I thought we discussed that one,” he replied with a mock frown.

“Choo-choo train?”

Sasha grimaced playfully, shaking his head. “I’m not sure I have that in my sack.”

Payson cocked her head to the side and narrowed her eyes slightly. “Was that an innuendo?”

“How is that -” Sasha began to complain but stopped as he realized how it could be taken, especially with Payson sitting on his lap the way she was in a tight black v-neck sweater and a pair of his pajama pants hanging off her hips. “You have a very dirty mind, Mrs. Belov,” he admonished, tapping her nose teasingly. “Perhaps you are not as nice as I thought.”

“If I’m not, then it’s your fault, _dragă soț_,” she replied surely. “I was perfectly innocent before you came along.”

“Perfect, yes,” he answered lowly, “never innocent.”

Payson shuddered at the low, enticing timbre of his voice and the disarming look in his eyes. Her husband would always be assured in his ability to make her want him with little more than four innocuous words.

She stepped out of his embrace, a very large part of her begrudging the sudden loss of contact, and met his stare with one meant to convey every feeling of love, desire and devotion she felt for him. “Isn’t it obvious, Santa?” she said in answer to his bewildered looks and gave a small tug to his hands get him to his feet. She smiled affectionately as she wrapped her arms around his neck once again and felt his automatically got to her waist. She kissed him surely, her lips pressed deliciously against his in a familiar embrace.

“All I want from Christmas,” she told him in a low whisper, “is you.”

* * *

  
“Sandu, is everything alright?” Sasha asked as his son sat reluctantly before a pile of unopened presents wringing his fingers in his lap. The nearly six-year-old appeared to be having some internal debate with himself and kept giving the pile disdainful looks as he fought back tears.

Alexandru glanced at his father and shook his head, his expression all the more distraught for seeing him. “There’s something I have to tell you,” he said, sniffing loudly, “but I don’t want to tell you, ‘cause it’s gonna make you sad, _Tată_.

“I don’t want to make you sad,” he wailed, slipping completely into Romanian and throwing himself into his father’s arms.

“It’s okay, Sandu,” Sasha uttered gently, rubbing soft, comforting circles into his son’s back. “I promise whatever it is, you can tell me and I won’t be sad or angry. Its okay.”

Sandu shook his head, burying it further into his father’s chest. Sasha glanced at Payson over his head, giving her a quick questioning look but she seemed as clueless as him as to the reason behind Sandu’s strange behaviour.

“You can tell me, _puiule_,” he repeated. “There’s no need to worry.”

The gentle voice of his father seemed to clam him to some degree, and so Sandu broke into a screed of fast Romanian, explaining what it was he was afraid would make Sasha so sad. "I saw Mama sitting with Mr. _Santa_," he explained sadly, continuing almost reluctantly, "and she was sitting on his knee. And then she kissed Mr. _Santa_ and Mr. _Santa_ kissed her back. And then she kissed him again and it was a real kiss, like the way you and Mama kiss when you're alone.

“I think _Mamă_ loves _Domnul _Santa!” he wailed loudly in English, fat tears rolling down his cheeks as he cried for the apparent affair his mother was having with Santa Claus. Payson almost cooed aloud at his sweetness, torn between comforting him herself and simply seeing how Sasha talked his way out of this one.

“Sandu, that wasn’t Santa Claus,” Sasha began, speaking slowly to get the point across as clearly as possible.

Sandu sniffed dramatically, wiping his wet face on his father’ shirt. “I thought there was something strange about him last year,” Sandu commented darkly, his eyes narrowed in an expression that was most definitely his mother’s.

“That was _bunic_,” Sasha nodded in reply, regretting it as soon as he saw Sandu’s face contort with fear, horror, and disgust. The boy glanced quickly at his mother and sister, and then looked back to his father.

“_Mamă_ kissed _bunic_? That's against the LAW”

Sasha grimaced, struggling to find the words needed to clarify the situation. “_Bunic’s_ not with us anymore, remember?” Sandu nodded, looking suddenly sad.

“But _bunic_ had a tradition,” he explained, stroking a hand through his son’s light hair as he spoke. “He started it when I was his little _puiule_ in România – even younger than you are now. And every Christmas he would dress up like Santa Claus and come into my room, and place one present – the best present – on the end of my bed. Then he’d wake me up, and just as I opened my eyes, I’d see Santa Claus on his way.

“But _bunic_ is not here,” he said sadly, his own eyes hazy, “and I tried to continue the tradition for you. But I just looked really silly in the suit and I couldn’t find all the parts, so I couldn’t do it because you’d know it was me underneath and the magic would be gone. And so your _Mamă_ was trying to make me feel better because I couldn’t do this for you like my _Tată_ did it for me.”

Sandu nodded understandingly, taking a moment to fully absorb all the details. “So _Mamă_ isn’t leaving us so that she can marry Santa Claus?” he asked carefully, his eyes flicking between his parents.

“No,” Payson said assuringly, a smile on her lips. She leaned over to place a kiss on the top of his head and affectionately stroking his cheek. “I’d never leave you, Sandu.”

"Or _Tată?"_ he checked carefully, not wanting to leave out his father.

"Or _Tată."_

“Okay,” Sandu agreed cheerfully, his mood completely flipped in an instance as he dived eagerly into the previously reprehensible pile of presents. He was nothing if not loyal, and so as long as the presents did not come from a man who was trying steal away his mother, Sandu was more than willing to accept them.

“Hey, _Mamă_?” Sandu asked once he was done desiccating the pile of presents. “If you did marry _Domnul_ Santa . . .

“Do you think he’d get me a puppy?"

**Author's Note:**

> Translations:
> 
> Te iubesc: I love you.  
scumpa mea soție: my darling wife.  
draga soț: dear husband.  
Tată: Father.  
Puiule: Baby/cub.  
Mamă: Mother.  
Domnul: Mister.  
bunic: grandfather.
> 
> Notes:  
When I was writing the bit with Alexandru/Sandu/Dru talking about Santa I had a sudden urge to write 'Santa-san' (I clearly write too much anime) and decided to check out whether or not there were any Romanian honorifics. Thus, the Mr. Santa/Domnul Santa used by Dru. Plus, I think it just sounds so cute when he says 'Mr. Santa' instead of just Santa.


End file.
